The Scarecrow Letters
by The Idiot Alchemist
Summary: The infamous Scarecrow, formerly respected psychiatrist Jonathan Crane, begins a letter exchange with something he thought he left permanently behind years ago in Arlen, Georgia.
1. Chapter 1

New fanfic. Sorry I haven't updated some of the others. I'll try to, but no promises. Real life sucks and all. I'm writing this to help take my mind off of everything.

I always wondered what the hell happened with Scarecrow's family after his Year One comic. Here's one guess.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the characters involved; they all belong to DC except Hester-Mae's schoolmates. Hester-Mae's not _technically_ an OC; she was Scarecrow's pig-tailed baby sister in Scarecrow: Year One. I just flash-forwarded her a few years into the future.

Enjoy!

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><p><span>The Scarecrow Letters<span>

Dear Mr. Jonathan Crane,

Hello. I am Hester-Mae Keeny and I'm your sister! I saw a newspaper thingy with you on it that Mama had in her secret box that I shouldn't have been looking in but I did anyway and looked you up on the internet and I found out you were my big brother and I wanted to write and say hi. Mama has never talked about you and the newspaper thing she had of you was in her secret box and so I have to keep this extra special secret so if you write back, you need to say that you're a penguin scientist in Antarctica or something on the little send-back thing on the envelope. I'll say we're penpals. Mama never checks my mail or nothing unless it's from school. She's usually busy hanging out with a boyfriend. I used to have a daddy too, but Mama says he drunk himself to death. Maybe it was he drunk the apple juice they serve during the end-of-grade test breaks. I am almost out of second grade. Tommy Rucker drank ten of them on a bet and was sick the next day. I don't remember my daddy so I don't really care too bad.

Sinseer-

Sencerell-

From Hester-Mae Keeny

P.S. Did you really hold a gun to my head when I was a baby? I think that's really cool and when a bunch of us in class were talking about the scariest thing that ever happened to us and I knew I had them beat so I said the gun thing and everyone called me a liar. They're all mean to me.

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><p>Dear Miss Hester-Mae,<p>

Hello to you. Yes, I am indeed your elder brother. Technically, I am your half-brother as we had different fathers. As you can see, I remembered your advice about not letting your mother know that someone from the most notorious insane asylum in the world is writing to you, let alone the person in the world she likely wants the least to do with you. To your note at the bottom of your generous letter, I must unfortunately say yes. I did indeed at one point threaten your life at gunpoint in a rage, but I am glad to see that you hold no grudge. I am sorry that some of your schoolmates are not as kind to you as they should be. Could you perhaps enlighten me a little more about your problems with others being mean? Perhaps I can help. After all, I am a doctor.

Sincerely,

Doctor Jonathan Crane

* * *

><p>Dear Jonathan Crane,<p>

Thank you so much for writing back to me! I saw you on the news yesterday because they were having a special on you guys in Gotham. You looked really cool. I wish stuff like that could happen in Arlen. It's so boring here. Did you make your outfit yourself? And I had to watch while Mama wasn't looking. She doesn't like me seeing stuff like that. I don't think she likes you very much. I do. I bet no one is mean to you beacause you're so scary. People at school pick on me and call Mama a hor. I don't know what that is and the teacher got me in trouble when I said it. I hate them. Everyone says I shouldn't use the word hate because it's bad but I do.

From Hester-Mae

P.S. Thank you for the pictures of penguins you gave me. They're really cute. They helped me lie better to Mama, too. It's probably bad to lie to my Mama, but she lied about you so there.

* * *

><p>Dear Hester-Mae,<p>

You are welcome for the pictures. I have an acquaintence that has more than enough penguin paraphernalia to keep up our little charade for a millenium. You saw a news special with me in it? Which one did you see, pray tell? Some are quite flattering in their depiction of the Scarecrow as a terrifying menace, but others are such insipid Lifetime-Movie-of-the-Week garbage that I hope no one watches them, much less my own kin. Yes, I do indeed construct my own garments for my nights out on the town. I am pleased that they are satisfactory to you and that you believe me to be scary. I am sorry that you are mistreated at school. As a matter of fact, I myself was bullied at school. Even here in Arkham some of the new, large, brainless thugs see me as an easy target due to my less than impressive physique. I quickly set them straight, of course and likely have a permanent place in their nightmares. Do you perhaps know what your classmates are afraid of? Do not do anything yet. Just gather some information for me. Their fears, what you know of their family lives, what they do during and after school, anything I can use to construct a way of helping you. As to why they pick on you, sadly enough, it's true. It's actually spelled "whore" and it is a fairly accurate description of our mother. That is no reason for you to be tormented. though. I may not be the most selfless of people, but I have something of a soft spot in my heart for those victimized undeservingly by those larger than themselves.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Crane

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><p>First letters down. I'll try to update this weekly to shake myself out of this lethargic period I've been going through.<p>

Hester-Mae's a bit of a..._special_ child. Takes a strange one to think that having a gun pointed at you as a baby constitutes bragging rights. And to start writing your infamous super-villain brother as soon as you find out about him. But that's kids for you. And I don't think Hester-Mae has too many friends.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own a thing. Not even Hester-Mae as she was the baby in Scarecrow Year One. DC owns all. Including my life.

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><p><span>The Scarecrow Letters<span>

Dear Jonathan Crane,

Thank you so much for wanting to help me with people at school. I followed the ones who are mean to me as best I could even though Beth threw a rock at me. She's scared of bugs. Like really scared. She always whines when we learn about bugs in the science part of class. I don't know why. Beetles and stuff are really cute. She keeps saying Mama's a bad person because her mom says Mama's name is Charlotte or something and I don't know why that's bad and it's not true and she says it makes me a bad person too. She's stupid. I don't care if calling people stupid is bad, no one ever gets mad at her for calling me names and stuff. Her mom is always saying how smart Beth is and how pretty and always shows her off and I don't see why she's not that smart or pretty. I know I'm way smarter than her. She never believes anyone when they say Beth does anything bad. Even though she does all the time just not when grown-ups are looking. Jake is just a jerk. He keeps pulling on my hair and calling me Stickbug. On picture day I was wearing a really nice dress and he pushed me in the dirt before the picture got taken and Mama thought I did it on purpose even though I showed her the scrape on my knee from when I tried to stop myself from falling. His dad yells at him a lot and I think he's scared of him. Madison H. doesn't like being sick because she's afraid of doctors and shots. I sit next to her in class and she always tells the teacher I'm copying her and I don't. Not Madison B. She's OK. Our answers are the same because she cheats. She cheats off everyone she sits next to and always blames them and no one's found her out except the other kid she used to sit next to but he moved So she cheats off me now. No one ever believes me when I say others are mean to me and they all think I'm a liar. I don't know how all this will help but I hope it does.

From Hester-Mae

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><p>Dear Hester-Mae,<p>

Please try to refrain from using so many run-on sentences. I know the school in Arlen is hardly up to snuff and that you are very young, but I feel you should at least know when to start a new sentence. Your situation sounds fairly bad. You do not have quite the problems that I did, but you are not yet in middle or high school. I also believe that being a girl means you are less susceptible to physical abuse, although you are no doubt suffering intense mental abuse from your tormenters. I am surprised that there are only three in your letter, but they seem to be making your life quite the living hell by themselves. Beth sounds like a tremendously spoiled little brat. She reminds me of a girl I once knew called Sherry Squires. I think I shall enjoy helping you to bring her down. Entomophobia, is it? A fairly common phobia among young girls, and one that should be fairly easy to trigger in little miss Beth. Especially considering how you mentioned that you like bugs. Good. Although I do not have much knowledge about entomology, I was able to look up what I believe to be our perfect species. The telephone-pole beetle lives in the eastern United States (where you are, dear) and is known for devouring rotting wood and causing damage to houses if unchecked. If my memories of Arlen are still clear, most of the houses are raised up from the ground and there is a mostly hollow space beneath. Hopefully Beth lives in one of these. If she does, gather as many telephone-pole beetles as you can. Wait until Beth's house is empty. Crawl under the space in the house, looking out for any poisonous spiders or other harmful things. It wouldn't do for you to be hospitalized for a black widow bite in an attempt to merely give a little girl a good fright. When you are under where you believe Beth's room to be, scrape away as much of the wood under her floor as you can. This should thin the area enough for your little beetle friends to do the rest of the work in a relatively short amount of time. Set the beetles as best you can on the area where you scraped off the wood. Knowing the humidity in Arlen, the age of most of the houses, and the pathological resistance the wretched town has to any change, the wood should be rotted enough for the beetles to feast away happily. With luck, the beetles might eat their way through Beth's floor entirely, giving her a nice scare when she sees them. If not, the house will still likely be damaged enough for Beth's family to lose enough money to stop spoiling her or, better yet, make her move away entirely.

On the off chance Beth does not live in the type of house described, wait until it gets hot enough for Beth to leave her window cracked at night. Bring a small knife and make a small cut in the bug screen covering her window. Slip in the most disgusting, non-harmful creature that will fit inside the cut. I do not care for the safety of the brat, but I would not like for you to get bitten. This plan is not as satisfactory or destructive as the first one, but it should still provide some small measure of revenge.

I will write what to do about your other bullies later. First it would be good to see if this plan will work. If so, we shall move on to the next. It will also be useful to spread out the attacks so that no one will even suspect you when your main tormenters are taken down one by one.

Best of luck,

Jonathan Crane

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><p>How do supervillains help their younger siblings deal with bullies? By trying to mold them into mini-supervillains, of course!<p>

I think Jonathan Crane might do something like this. He has been shown in comics to have soft spots for fellow victims of bullying. He offers to make a woman named Becky Albright his partner when he learns that she was bullied in her past for her physical disabilities and even made her a costume, and in the first issue of the Batman Adventures he tracks down, terrorizes, and almost kills the abusive (and implied rapist) boyfriend of his favorite student. If he's willing to do that for those people, I don't see it as much of a stretch for him to write advice and tips-for-future-villainy to his bullied little half-sister.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm baaaaaaaack!

Hey, everyone. Thanks for the support. Yeah, in my headcanon there's about a 23-year age difference between the two of them, putting Crane at around 24 when he started his Scarecrow career and 30 at the beginning of this fanfic. 24 _is_ pretty young for a respected university professor, but he's a genius so there's my excuse. His mother didn't seem too old in Scarecrow: Year One (although that might have just been the art style) so teen mom or not, it wouldn't really fit to have him be too much older than that. Overly long intro over.

**Disclaimer**: Though I'd be delighted if DC relinquished all of their rights to Batman and friends over to me (pwetty pwease?), I don't think that's happening any time soon. So yeah, I own none of these characters.

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><p>Dear Jonathan Crane,<p>

Thanks for the plan! Her house is like that so I was able to use the first plan. I didn't really know how to find the bugs at first so I looked at this BIG book of bugs I have that I got for my last birthday for it. I found a picture of the bugs you wanted me to use and it took me two weeks to find a lot of them and I kept them in a big jar with holes on top and dropped sticks and bits of wood in there so they wouldn't get hungry and waited until Beth went to Myrtle Beach for the weekend. Beth's house is kinda nice so the criss-crossy wood surrounding the empty space under the porch and stuff didn't have many holes but her dad had just fixed a pipe under there or something because a little door-thing was open and I got in through there. The bugs kept falling on my face when I was putting them to the part I scraped off but I got a lot on there. It didn't do anything for a long time (that's why I haven't written in a while) but then I think Beth found a few in her room and then her dad called a bug person to come in and look and the bugs had eaten so much of the bottom of their house that they need to move away and if the bugs hadn't been found the house would have fallen down. It was on the news, even. Biggest bunch of telephone-pole beetles ever found eating a house. I am happy because Beth's family picked to go to Oklahoma with her granny. Good.

From Hester-Mae

* * *

><p>Dear Hester-Mae,<p>

I am happy to see that your first foray into entomological terrorism went without a hitch. Very good. I feel a strange sense of pride that I have coached you into a relatively large-scale revenge plot at such a young age and with only a few letters. Ah, but the satisfaction a teacher receives when a pupil has done perfectly is one of the most rewarding experiences in life, made all the more so in their rarity. Truth be told, I only began writing you back in the first place because I thought it would be an amusing diversion and that you would be a dull and ordinary child, but I am pleasantly surprised to find that you seem to be more similar to myself than I could have imagined. Blood is stronger than I thought. I cannot say I am displeased.

Ah, but enough of my rambling. You still have two more adversaries to be taken care of, do you not? You mentioned that you believed Jake to have issues with his father and that he enjoys harassing you. The two are perhaps related. Boys will usually look to their fathers as role models as to what a man should be and how they themselves should strive to be. This is true even if the boy fears or even despises his father. They see their fathers as a source of fear and torment but also as powerful and dominant and will often want to be dominant in return both to hopefully placate the father and to hide their own fears. Perhaps he is also hurting you out of a twisted sort of crush. The cliché of a boy tormenting a girl because he likes her has its basis in truth, but in no way excuses the little monster from plaguing you simply because he cannot express his hidden feelings (perhaps even hidden from himself) in a manner that does not involve you being harmed.

I've managed to gain a little help for this plot. In the envelope you will find a tiny seed that a colleague of mine managed to hide from the guards. Although she and I are not anywhere close to being friends, she agreed to help me when I showed her your letter explaining her troubles. She does not like to see the oppression of female by male any more than she likes the oppression of Kingdom Plantae by Animalia. I am not much into botany outside of plants with compounds useful to my endeavors (I do wish your schoolmates had more phobias that work to my mental strengths), but she informs me that she developed this seed to bring out hidden aggression in people, likely so that she may blame others for crimes she committed. If this is true, than perhaps I should work with her one night. If she is as skilled in the manipulation of human emotions through such means as she claims, we should develop a fear toxin together of such potency that the fear would be absolute and all-consuming.

Excuse me. Back to the plan.

She claims that this current seed is from a prototype group that, while effective, takes a few hours to work its magic. While inconvenient for our benefactor, this trait proves remarkably beneficial for our needs. Given time periods between letters and your own information in earlier letters, you should be beginning third grade soon. Which means that by now you are likely around eight years old. Congratulations. You may consider the seed and my plan as birthday presents if you like. It is not as if I can send out much else. When school starts again (if it hasn't already), wait until lunch. Somehow slip the seed into Jake's food when he is not looking. That is all you have to do. I know it may sound simple enough, but you have to make sure that absolutely no one sees you do this.

If all goes well, Jake's suppressed anger towards his father, which according to your succinct description I assume he has, should come out sometime after school when he is at home. This should hopefully trigger a confrontation with his father and let all of the issues that Jake has be finally released. He will then most likely stop bugging you for good. Do not worry; this confrontation should be therapeutic for him. It's not healthy to suppress emotions and misplace them on someone else.

If it does not work, mail me a can of the strongest weed-killer you can find. I will likely not make it past security, but I could always manage to steal it from the guards. Or it might go through anyway, knowing the incompetancy of Arkham's finest.

Best of luck,

Jonathan Crane

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><p>Our hero, ladies and gents. Slowly converts his impressionable baby sister who's desperate for a friend into a bite-sized supervillain whilst simultaneously poisoning small children and getting them abused on purpose. A round of applause. sarcasm

Seriously though, even though I'm trying to delve into the "nicer" part of Crane's psyche, he's still a frickin' Batman villain who thinks that his mass poisonings of Gotham are a perfectly rational response to his (admittedly) horrible childhood.

I wonder how often Hester-Mae needs to run to her dictionary when reading Crane's letters. She's fairly smart but she's still only seven or eight and the not-so-good doctor has a rather extensive vocabulary.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi diddle diddle, time for a…wrong villain. Um, hickory dickory doc, the mouse ran up the new chapter! No, that doesn't work, either. Meh, new chapter here.

Disclaimer: DC owns Batman and all the wonderful characters he interacts with.

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><p><span>The Scarecrow Letters<span>

Dear Jonathan Crane,

I did what you said. No one noticed. But I don't know if this is good or not. Jake was mean to me and all, but the next day Jake couldn't go to school because his dad hurt him real bad after they argued and had to go to prison, I think. I know Jake was mean, but I feel bad and all those shows on TV and the teachers always say if you do something to the people who are mean to you, you're just as mean. But I know too that sometimes people who do bad things are also nice, like you. You listen to me and no one else does. What do I do?

From Hester-Mae

* * *

><p>Dear Hester-Mae,<p>

Poor sweet girl, you did nothing wrong. In fact, you did a lot of good. True, Jake got hurt, but thanks to you it will likely be the last time he ever gets hurt after his father goes to prison. Thanks to you Jake's father was revealed to be the monster that he was and he won't hurt Jake again, and Jake won't hurt you again. So you see? Everything's fine. Do you really think I would let my own darling baby sister do anything bad? Besides, TV is full of brain-rotting junk good only for a laugh and most teachers care more about keeping students from bothering them than they do about actually helping them when they're in trouble. Not me, of course. I always wanted to know my students as best I could, but my brainless colleagues did not see it the same way and had me fired. Alas, it is a harsh world and the people who merely want to help or not be hurt are always the ones to be oppressed and the cruel and unjust are left free to prosper. Remember, I only wish to help you. If the people who tell you to be submissive to those who would take advantage of you and hurt you were really so into justice, than why didn't they help you? Why didn't they stop the cruelty being done to you? They did not. I did. I gave you the knowledge you needed to exact your revenge. I listened to you when you told me how cruel they were. I am here to help you and always will be.

I understand if you still have some qualms with carrying on your revenge after the incident with Jake, but nonetheless I shall leave this last plan here, should you need it. Please continue writing. Your letters are a ray of sunshine in my dank, lonely cell. True, I receive plenty of mail from shall we say misguided individuals thinking they can be me, but yours are the only ones I am even motivated to open.

As a teacher, I have always despised cheaters. Madison H. takes it to another level with blaming her victims for her crimes. Nosocomephobia Molysomophobia Iatrophobia Vaccinophobia Mysophobia. I could easily induce those fears, being a doctor myself, but I doubt that I could easily make it to Arlen from Gotham in a short amount of time. You could fake a cold and hope that she stays away from you and your answers for fear of infection, but that is a gamble, and not theatric enough for my tastes. My suggestion is purposefully infecting her with something virulent. It would be difficult to do so without you getting sick yourself (especially seeing as she seems the type to go to school sick to avoid a potential doctor's visit), but my botanist friend has kindly helped me again. Not intentionally, but out of boredom in the recreational area I picked up a book that she was finished reading that had a marvelous description of a wide variety of poisonous plants.

I understand you have an aversion to this plan, considering your guilt over Jake, but believe me this is for the greater good. While Madison H. is in the hospital she shall have to do her own school work. She will learn that she cannot cheat forever to get anywhere in life. In the end, you will be helping the little brat. It will be a harsh lesson, yes, but one she had best learn while she is still young. Perhaps while she is sick, there will be a test that you will do good on and that she will fail during the make-up session, being unable to cheat off of you. Perhaps this will reveal her for the cheat she is, considering her past history with that other poor child.

Here it is for your consideration: there is a rather potent tree named _robina psuedoacacia_ or the black locust tree. Check out an illustrated book on trees with the black locust, that way you will be able to identify the tree we need. Scrape off some of the bark and powder it, making sure not to breathe in any of it or get any bit in your mouth. Use the same strategy you did for Jake, waiting until no one is looking before slipping some into her food. Choose something covered in pepper or some other substance that will cause her not to suspect. I am not sure how much is necessary to cause a reaction (very unscientific but I am using the resources at my disposal to the best of my abilities) so use only a little bit the first time and slightly up the dose a second time if the first is unsuccessful. And so on until you get a reaction and as the opportunity presents itself. She'll have to be sent to the hospital eventually. When she does, it will serve her right.

Remember: be _very _careful to make sure no one sees you. The hospital might figure out what caused Madison H. to be sick and will look for a suspect for the poisoning. If you suspect that they might be looking into students, flush all of my letters and poison yourself and some other students to draw suspicion away from you. Do not worry. The tree I picked is not usually deadly, so you'll only be sick for a little while.

Believe me when I say that I love you and only want to help you.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Crane

* * *

><p>Sure, Crane. We believe you. Aw, how cute. He's coaching her how to be a serial poisoner, just like her big brother. Methinks Doctor Crane is living out his own revenge on his tormenters through turning Hester-Mae into his Mini Me while thinking that he's only trying to help her.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the support everybody! New chapter, comin' your way!

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns Batman and everybody. Even I am owned by DC Comics. Well, I'm owned by them and Marvel. And Dark Horse. And George R. R. Martin. And Funimation. And…

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><p><span>The Scarecrow Letters<span>

Dear Jonathan Crane,

I was very nervous to do another plan because I felt bad about Jake, but I suppose you know better. It took two tries before anything happened to Madison H. I don't think the doctors know exactly what happened and I'm glad because I don't want to poison anyone else and I really don't want to poison me. The news says they thought it was one of the lunch people and took Mr. Gilman to jail because they thought he did it because they looked in his house and found stuff that means he's a petta file. I don't know what that is and the dictionary doesn't have it. I'm kind of sad because he was really nice to me and I feel bad again. I think Madison H. is going to move like Beth did, so that's a good thing. I don't know if everything I did was right but the guys who were meanest to me are gone now and no one thinks I did anything for once. Thank you. You're my only friend and since you're my brother you won't never go away, right? I love you too.

I don't know if you know what I look like now so there's a picture in the envelope. I'm not very pretty and everyone says so but there I am anyway. I think you know lots about me by now. I don't know nothing about you. What's it like in Arkham? I bet its lots more exciting than Arlen.

From Hester-Mae

* * *

><p>Dear Hester-Mae,<p>

So all of your enemies have been eliminated. Excellent. I would not feel too bad for Mr. Gilman, my dear. He was a very bad man and deserved to be arrested. How, exactly, was he nice to you? Oh, I'm not going to have you do anything now. If I feel it's necessary, I will take care of him myself. Do not worry. I told you, I will not let you do anything wrong. You've done so much good and I'm proud of you.

Your picture was very nice. Don't listen to people when they tell you you're not pretty. Your hair is much darker than the last time I saw you. I was blond as a child before it gradually darkened to what it is now. I suspect your own hair will do the same. I am rather surprised at our physical similarities, given we are only half-siblings. The main differences I can see are your gender and your freckles. You are as skin-and-bones as I was (I suppose that is why Jake used to call you Stickbug?) and that surprises me. I had figured that my physique is due to my—_our_ great-grandmother's treatment of me. Does our mother treat you well? Tell me everything. Before you panic, I will not cause you to harm our mother. I would never make you do such a thing.

Interested in Arkham, are we? It is not a particularly pleasant place. Still, to people like me it is the closest thing we have to a home. No matter what we do or how long we stay away, we always come back. Be it by bat, cop, or choice, we come back. The food is substandard, the bunks are hard, and you only receive one blanket regardless of the cold. I receive plenty of mail from deluded fans to keep myself amused, and of course your letters which are more or less my only true connection to the outside world. When not replying to you, I write scholarly articles under a pseudonym. Dr. Ichabod Lyman is just as highly regarded for his insight into the human mind and its fears as Dr. Jonathan Crane used to be.

I was—am a genius, you know. Graduated early, a respected teacher at university by the time I was twenty-four. Unprecedented in the history of Gotham State. Why I was fired is still a mystery to me. I suppose I was wrong to presume that a teacher's job is to know his students and to educate them to the best of his abilities. My goal was to learn about my students' fears and to teach them about the true meaning of fear. Was I not chosen because of my insight into fear? It was the focus of my class. But certain oversensitive people object to the firing of a gun in a classroom, even if no one was harmed and no harm was intended. I admittedly went overboard in my reaction, which resulted in my unfortunate threat against you, but I have mellowed and because of my firing I have realized my purpose. The embrace, rather than the rejection of fear. Fear is the purest and deepest emotion. It is the first emotion we feel upon birth and is often the last emotion we experience. Nothing else penetrates the soul quite as deeply. It is what has kept us alive. Oh, if only you were not a child and could understand! One day your mental faculties will be developed enough for you to comprehend the great truth I have come upon. You seem to be fairly intelligent already, more than most so-called adults I have come across, and one day I shall educate you in the true meaning of fear.

I suppose you would like to know about the other denizens locked away here. Oswald Cobblepot (the man that I have been receiving all of the various penguin related effects from for our charade) no longer resides here, now owning a respected high class lounge. So I am afraid we will have to continue our sham without back-up. Our mother is not very bright, so I would not worry. Cobblepot was one of the more decent ones. A bit absorbed with hailing from one of Gotham's finest families, but he was polite at least. His Iceberg Lounge is actually quite lovely. The food was excellent, and looking at my pitiful supper I miss it all the more. Harleen Quinzel can be tolerable at times. She was once a psychiatrist like myself. Not a particularly good one, but occasionally I can involve her in a semi-engaging conversation. When she is around her boyfriend, however, she is the most annoying creature to ever walk the face of the planet. The Joker is abominable. End of story. Edward Nigma is extremely intelligent, likely even a genius, and can make for terrific company. Unfortunately his ego can become too large to occupy the same room with. Jervis Tetch has an impeccable knowledge of the workings of the mind but is so obsessed with Alice's Adventures in Wonderland that wringing anything sensible from him is akin to pulling teeth from a shark. Pamela Isley is the botanist who has helped us, if once inadvertently. She is brilliant at what she does and has an impressive knowledge of toxins and the manipulation of the mind using pheromones. She just happens to care more for the safety of dandelions than those of people. I myself care little for the insects scurrying around Gotham, but she is disturbing. Still, if you know how to speak to her she is an exceptional ally. Julian Day switches between impressive competency and idiotic buffoonery to the extent where he can give Harvey Dent a run for his money. Speaking of Mr. Dent, his "good" persona is dedicated to law and order to an annoying degree whereas his "evil" persona is a violent maniac impossible to talk to. Garfield Lynns is a pyromaniac incapable of discussing anything but flames. Cameron van Cleer is a joke. Maximillian Zeus is good for conversing about mythology, bad for anything else. Arnold Wesker is a sad, pathetic wretch. His alter ego Scarface is unbearably annoying. John Dee believes himself to be such a big, scary threat. It would be almost adorable if he were not nearly as pathetic and wrteched as Wesker. Victor Zsasz mutters constantly and only cares about adding marks to his collection. How he has not yet been executed is a mystery. Victor Fries is pitiable, and his dedication to his wife is admirable, I suppose. Waylon Jones is more animal than sentient. Bane is surprisingly intelligent and knowledgeable. You would think that because of his use of what I can only describe as "super-steroids" that he would be a muscle-headed thug, but I was interestingly proven wrong.

That went on for longer than intended and I apologize. I think I will begin educating you in fear. You are very young and I am more used to teaching university-level students, but I am sure I will manage. You were meant for greater things than wasting away in Arlen, sister. Such a place is too small and insignificant for those such as we are. You have potential, but it needs molding and guidance in order to flourish. I will make it flourish.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Crane.

* * *

><p>I think at some point during his rant about his fellow villains Jonathan forgot he was writing to his eight-year old sister and just started venting his inner thoughts. I think he cares for Hester-Mae genuinely, as much as he can anyway, but since he is so manipulative and despite his knowledge of psychology has such a warped understanding of human relationships he can't help but try to control and shape her after his own image. I blame great-granny Keeny. Jony wouldn't ever make HM hurt their mother. He wants to do it himself, the little sadist.<p>

There's going to be a three-year time skip between the events of these letters and next chapters. See you soon. Different Scarecrow time, same Scarecrow channel.


	6. Chapter 6

Let's do the Time Warp agaaaaaaain! New chapter, new time. It's about three years in the future from the last letter, so Hester's eleven and Jonny's somewhere around thrity-four.

Also, although Hester and Spooky have quite a few not-so-nice things to say about their mother Karen, I actually feel a lot of pity for her. Can you imagine how her mother treated her after she gave birth to Jonny? Not to mention having to give him up, Gerald Crane leaving her alone, her obviously abusive husband later, and that's just canon (but hey, at least she got to kiss Batsy). In my fic she also has Arlen's judgment of her for wanting to have an active love life, her daughter's manipulation into judging her as well (although to be fair, Hester's getting plenty of hell for her mother's reputation), I really feel sorry for her. So TL;DR, I don't hate Karen Keeny. At all. But Hester and Jonny are bitter about the pain they've gone through so they aren't as open-minded to their mother's predicament. Shutting up now.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. DC owns all. Although if DC would like to give me the real—I mean _old_ DC Universe now that they've started a new one, I would be very grateful. Not holding my breath.

* * *

><p><span>The Scarecrow Letters II<span>

Dear Jonathan,

Mom's got a new boyfriend. Again. Didn't bother finding out his name. I won't trouble myself with sending this one off. He's not a perv like the last one. I think. At least Mom phoned the cops on his ass when she found out after I made it obvious. Good luck with not dropping the soap, sicko. I expect a nice, friendly reception from the others at school. "Hey, Keeny's mom's got another one. Can't keep her legs closed for five minutes, can she?" I can always hope that the Canary Islands will finally drop a huge rock into the sea and the resulting tidal wave will wipe my middle school—scratch that—wipe all of Arlen off the face of the earth. I can only hope. Madison (I've finally gotten out of the habit of calling her Madison B.) has a new BF too. He's a jackass. Tells me I'm going to grow up a slut just like Mom. Not in front of Madison, of course. Fucker.

Halloween's coming up. Your big day. Got any plans? I'll keep my eye on news from Gotham. Try not to let the Bat beat you too bad. If he catches you, go limp. Chess with Jervis still good, or has he really gone permanently to Wacky-Cuckoo-La-La-Land? How's Pamela doing? She go full plant yet? Don't tell her I said that. The gas mask thing going on with your new Scarecrow costume is pretty cool. The hood's neat, but I kinda miss your hat. You were out for four months. New record. I missed writing to you, but seeing you in action is so fricking awesome.

Anything new you wanna share with me? I'm all ears.

Love,

Hester-Mae

P.S. I only just realized this, but I think you're the only one other than Mom to call me Hester-Mae instead of "the Keeny girl" or just Keeny. Huh.

* * *

><p>Dearest sister,<p>

Until he tries to pull anything, your plan of waiting our mother's current beau out is a wise course of action. I am continually sorry the people of our ancestral lands are as tolerant and loving as ever, note my sarcasm. Madison appears to have the same taste in men that our mother does. We shall have to dispose of him eventually. I am glad to know that you care for my safety. I try not to let the big bad bat injure me unduly.

I am happy that my new Scarecrow design has your seal of approval. I know you like the hat, but it can be very impractical. It is hard to be intimidating when your hat is forever falling off. The gas mask is both wonderfully frightening, yet useful. As much as I have an appreciation of fear the average worm does not comprehend, it is rather annoying to hallucinate whilst engaged in combat with Batman.

I might do something for Halloween. I have only recently been kindly escorted back to Arlen and now that my special day is coming up, security will be increased. Nothing I cannot easily bypass, but it will be a pain and I have two broken ribs from my chiropteric friend. Everyone here is acting as normally as they ever do. I think Jervis may be improving somewhat. He is still obsessed with the book which shall not be named, but he at least calls me Jonathan instead of "Dodo." I shall take what I can get. Our chess matches are still the highlight of my day. Dear Miss Isley has not yet metamorphosed into one of her beloved weeds, rest assured. And she has not yet teamed up with me to join our formidable knowledge of toxins. Oh no, that would cause some of her poor "babies" to be injured. Sometimes I wish I knew where Jervis keeps his "playing cards." Far too many people do not do as they should.

Luckily I have you. I believe it is time I began your instruction. Where to start with that which has been my obsession most of my life? Fear, the most basic and primal of emotion. The first, and often the last one we feel. No other emotion provides the clarity and the intensity that fear does. While other emotions cloud the mind, fear is the realization of reality as it is. The heightened pulse and senses are quite similar to sexual arousal. I find fear to be far more satisfactory, however. It is strange that it is seen as such a negative emotion. True, to most uneducated dullards it is a highly unpleasant sensation, but to the enlightened mind it is a revealing and illuminating ecstasy. So few truly understand what a wonder it is. One day, I hope to have educated you enough so that you too will. As a psychiatrist, my goal is to assist my patients in overcoming obstacles in their mind keeping them from dealing with reality. Fear is the ultimate reality. So many problems in society could be overcome if people would embrace their fears. I confront them with their fear. With me, there is no hiding from their true minds, the essence of their beings. They see themselves for what they are. They are often horrified to acknowledge their true identities and so see me as a madman, a villain. I am no madman. To be mad is to be separated from reality. I have a better grasp on the real and the true than most. If anything, they are the mad. As a doctor, is it not my duty to help them? As reluctant as they are to see reality in its purest form, I shall make them. It is only right. No one understands this. No one understands the ecstasy of fear, the joy of seeing the fearful writhe. One day, I hope you may. One day you might be ready to be my first true disciple of Phobos. You have always carried out my orders without question. You have always carried them out to success. You have never been caught. There are grown henchmen in Gotham who openly brag of their exploits who have not a percentage of your competence. You were meant for more than contemptible Arlen. I can make you great, little sister. I will make you great. When I am through with your true education, you will never again be mocked by the lesser mortals who occupy our pathetic birthplace. I will teach you to embrace the enlightenment of fear. Together, we shall bring the gospel of fear to the world.

Yours,

Jonathan


	7. Chapter 7

Howdy, folks! Thanks for the feedback! Yeah, Hester's a little foul-mouthed, but if my memories of middle school are correct (which they might not be, seeing how much I've tried to repress, shudder) preteens cuss like sailors when they think no one's looking because they think it makes them seem more "mature." In the unlikely event any tweens are reading this: it doesn't. It just makes you annoying. Stop it. Save it for when you have a thirty page thesis and two other ten-page essays due in a limited amount of time.

Ahem.

Disclaimer: Batman and all related things belong to my puppetmaster DC.

* * *

><p><span>The Scarecrow Letters II<span>

Dear Jonathan,

Heavy stuff. I'm not really sure I get all that ecstasy of fear mumbo jumbo. The DARE officer'd probably freak, though. I don't really get it now, but I hope it'll make sense later. You know, since you're going to teach me all about fear and stuff, I was thinking I should join you! It would be fucking awesome! I'd be such a cool villain! You know, I could get a cool costume, call myself the Scarester or something and we'd scare everyone together! I could go to Gotham and never have to see anyone in Arlen again. I could hang out with you all the time. You're the only person in the world I really like. You're the only one who really listens to me. And I practically know everyone at Gotham already because you tell me about them and I know I'd get along with most of them. I really want to get out of here and meet you finally. Mom tries to hang out with me more, but always with one of her boyfriends and she doesn't know me at all. Her boyfriend now isn't too bad, but he's still dumb as a brick and I can hear them at night and it's gross. I want to get out of here so bad. Madison's boyfriend is really being a bastard and I wish him and everybody else who says things about me and my mom would just go away and die. His dad's about as bad. He's a big one-eyed creep who knows about you and he yells at me. You did something to him, huh? He probably deserved it. I don't suppose you have a plan for taking out all of Arlen, do you? Worth a shot.

Love,

Hester-Mae

P.S. I found out my dad didn't die from drinking. I don't blame you though. He sounds like he deserved it. I don't blame mom either for not telling. I saw her watching a thing on you when she thought I was in bed. She winced when Batman punched you. I thought you might like to know.

* * *

><p>Dear sister,<p>

So you have taken an interest in joining the elite of Gotham. Good girl. My years of letters have not been in vain. It is not an easy life, I warn you. Believe it or not, the GCPD's been beginning to get more competent cops. It used to be just Gordon and O'Hara, but then Ramirez was signed on, and then Yin and who knows who else. Hired thugs are mostly incompetent fools and you have no idea how happy I am to have found you. You never know quite when the Great Flying Rat will show up with one of his baby birds in tow.

Still, the reward for success is immense. I cannot describe the feeling of the denizens of this city cowering beneath me as if to a god. It is like I am Timor come to earth from the chariot of Mars to instill terror into the hearts of the quivering mortals. There is a great deal of respect in the underworld for those able to repeatedly go toe-toe with the Bat Man. There are also some monetary benefits if one is interested in that, but money is only useful for further research, for further plots.

The key to joining our ranks is having a good persona. It is what separates the likes of me from embarrassments such as the so-called Crazy Quilt. I am not making him up. Your costume must identify you to the world and intimidate. Your name must be something that will be whispered in fear by the population for years. I am afraid "the Scarester" will not do. You must cultivate a personality that instigates dread the moment you step into a room. The Scarecrow is terrifying. I can see into your mind, your soul. I whisper a lullaby as you sink slowly into the wonder and glory of absolute terror. I have crafted myself well, and I shall help you to craft yourself as well.

First hint: clean up your language a bit. I'm not telling you to talk like a character from a Norman Rockwell painting and I know I try to encourage you to be comfortable with me and to be who you cannot be around others, but a foul-mouthed little girl is more comedic than frightening, dear. You have the potential to become an absolute terror to behold to the average worm and I want to nurture that. Try muttering horrific things under your breath. I find that when one of my fellow inmates does this, many of the guards and interns become most unnerved. Perhaps Poe might do.

I apologize for the briefness of this letter but I have been put on a new medication and I believe it's starting to kick in, damn it all. I am glad you wish to join me, sister. Write back to me what you have in mind for a persona. Think about what frightens you to help. I will attempt to elaborate on the nature of fear later when I can think properly. Best of luck.

Yours,

Jonathan

P.S. I do not care for our mother's opinion on me. She had her chance. Sixteen or not, she could have done something. I had sent crows to pluck out a boy's eye and kill our great-grandmother by then.

* * *

><p>Might be a while 'til the next one. I'll try not to make it too long, but I have a ton of stuff to work on.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for the feedback, everyone!

Vacation's over (if you can call working on a 30-page paper "vacation"), back to work. In which Jonny goes coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs, Hester is a good little puppet, and I abuse my comma button like there's no tomorrow.

Disclaimer: I may wish and I may beg but I am not the owner of Batman or any related properties. It's all DC's. If I were the owner, would I be writing mediocre fanfiction? No; with all of the royalties I'd be relaxing next to a pool and I'd never work another day in my life.

* * *

><p><span>The Scarecrow Letters II<span>

Dear Jonathan,

Thanks for the advice. I don't know what you mean about cussing not being scary. Gangsters on TV cuss like crazy and people are scared of them. Meh. You know best, I guess. I did the whispering thing at school and people got sooo freaked out. It was funny. My teacher was even freaked until I told her I was just trying to memorize Poe. Scared my idiot classmates and got teacher's OK in one move. Nice!

So you did do something for Halloween. And got booted back to Arkham. Setting up a haunted house with a $100 reward for getting all the way through AND with fear gas pumping in? Seriously, I wish I'd been there. Place was up all night before the Bat-Man (is that how you write it? Every newspaper and TV show has it different) or whatever figured something was up. According to the Vicki Vale Power Hour (I dunno what the real name of that is either, but everybody calls it that. Summer Gleeson's better.) 1,296 people went in and got the scare of their lives. Pretty sure that goes on your top ten list of schemes! That is so cool! I'm sad you're locked up again, but at least you can read this.

Are you sure Scarester won't work as a supervillain name? I thought it was cool. Other supervillains have way dumber names. Captain Cold? For real? Sounds like a Sesame Street villain. If you meet him, don't tell him I said that. Just because his name's stupid doesn't mean his powers ain't. I can't think of any other names that will really fit except Dorothy and I am NOT calling myself that, thank you. I've been thinking about that persona thing. Like, maybe I could be the silent psycho type person. You know, you talk and give the villain lecture and I stand behind you not saying anything but holding a big freaking weapon. I think that would be pretty scary. I just thought of another villain name. I could be the Frightener! Pretty sweet, huh? That could really work great. Scarecrow and the Frightener, the two most terrifying crooks in Gotham history! What do you think, huh? Can't wait to hear from you!

Love,

Hester-Mae

* * *

><p>Dear sister,<p>

Trust me on this, your change in persona to a more silent, sinister force will work much better. And no, the gangsters on TV are no more petrifying than a week-old hamster. I see I shall have to educate you further on the true nature of fear. At least you are beginning to put some of my advice to good use. Frightening your boorish classmates whilst receiving your teacher's approval at the same time? Well done! It is also good that you are reading some of the classics. They may be boring to you now, but I assure you that you will be better off for being familiar with them.

The haunted house scheme did work much better than I would have thought. I would be a horrible liar if I said that I was not extremely pleased to see how many people lined up to willingly be scared out of their wits. True, there was a monetary reward involved, but still. I made a little bit of money off of it as well, charging $10 a person to get in. And, as the money was gained legitimately, the police were not able to take it from me, only charging me with multiple counts of poisoning. The usual.

No. Scarester is not an option. Please quit bringing it up. The Frightener is somewhat better, but somehow lacks. Although, until we can find a better solution I suppose it will have to do for now. I shall come up with a better sobriquet in time. I will not make you call yourself Dorothy, rest assured. I receive enough Wizard of Oz jokes as it is.

Again, being a silent menace could work quite well. An enemy that you cannot sense is a primal fear. People fear the dark not because of the darkness itself, but for the things which may be hiding in it waiting to strike. The Bat has used this fear well. I must admit I admire it. A creature without a voice is one without an identity and is therefore seen as somewhat inhuman and therefore somewhat frightening. A mask of some sort would also assist. Something to hide the features and to dehumanize your persona even further. I think you should be quite the little terror after that. I shall have to think of a design. There is no hurry. You still have a long way to go before you are at my side petrifying Gotham into submission. But, as I've said before, you have such marvelous potential. The Joker wasted the potential Miss Quinn had. Oh, she can be quite the competent villain when she really puts in effort, but that's precisely it. Any time she truly lets herself shine, the idiot clown immediately stops her for "upstaging" him. She almost got the Bat himself once, before he stopped her. And she goes along with it to try and earn his "love." Such a shame. She was one of my more tolerable students during my days as a professor. A true teacher feels each one of his students' victories and accomplishments as though they were his own and when you become a rogue in your own right I assure you that I will let you have free reign as long as it does not interfere with my own plans. I appreciate good work.

And I let myself go off on another tangent, where is my mind today?

Fear comes from the sense of potential harm to the self. Look up to my description of fear of the dark. It is not the dark that truly frightens a nyctophobic. It's what could be in the dark. Sometimes what isn't there is far more terrifying than what is. Since you used my last piece of advice to your advantage, let me give you a little homework assignment. Pick a victim from your school. Any victim. Someone who is occasionally mean to you or someone whose face you just don't like. Follow them around without being seen. Let them hear you every once in a while by stepping on a twig or by coughing slightly, but always stay out of vision. Do this for a week or two until the victim knows that they are being followed. After that, stand somewhere in view of their window where your victim and only your victim can see you. Wear something concealing, so that he or she cannot tell who you are. Make sure it is not an item of clothing you will wear again, to prevent suspicion. After he or she panics and either runs out of the room or calls for help or both, get out of sight and head back home. I would suggest not doing this to Madison's boyfriend, no matter how much he may deserve to feel helpless. The little worm would likely use his victim status to gain sympathy from the stupid girl. This little experiment should let you get a feel for the power and control fear can give you. Without harming someone, saying anything to them, or even being seen by them, you can have someone shivering in fear of you, have them screaming from nightmares of you. You should learn from experience the power fear gives. There is no way to simply write it down and expect you to understand. I will teach you the joy in seeing fear in others first, as it was the first thing I learned. Later, I will teach you of the ecstasy fear can be to the enlightened mind who will accept it. This next step will not be easy. It is easy to enjoy power over others. It is a far harder thing to learn to appreciate the thrill of absolute terror running down your spine, filling each of your senses until you are near to bursting with the true consciousness of fear. Even I did not truly appreciate fear until some years into my career. I only saw it as something to inflict upon others to make them suffer. Now I see what a blessing it really is. What a wonder. The glory of it. Why is it that no one else can understand? No, it is not that they can't. They simply won't. You will. I know you will. You will understand fear as I do. I will teach you to. When you understand you shall be as I am, a god amongst insects. They will be the worms and we the enlightened. They will scream and shriek their praises and beg for mercy from us, as good devotees should. Gotham shall be consumed by terror and it will be beautiful. That is the Eden I am trying to create. That we will create. A magnificent garden of panic and horror that is all-consuming with no serpent, or should I say bat, to ruin it. Even he shall be converted to the splendor of my horrifying paradise. He has some appreciation of fear and uses what he knows well. I shall have to break him and cultivate his understanding into something more complementary to my true philosophy. Can you see it, sister? Can you understand what I am trying to do? You are still only a child but I know you must have some comprehension of my plan. If not, I shall help you to understand. You have to understand.

Yours,

The Scarecrow

* * *

><p>Jonathan Crane has left the building. Everybody tell Jonathan good-bye! Bye, Jonny! Scarecrow pulls the strings and Hester jumps. Poor kid. Oh well. Until next time, my lovelies.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the support! Here's the continuation of the merry adventures of Hester-Mae and Jonatahn!

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing at all! I am merely the servant of DC.

* * *

><p><span>The Scarecrow Letters II<span>

Dear Jonathan,

Wow. OK, that was really heavy. Like, I dunno if I could do all that, you know? It's scary. I suppose that's the point though. I'm not sure if I could be a god or goddess or whatever. Isn't that blasphemy? I'm just me. But, you really think I could be someone like that? Liking being afraid and getting bowed to by everyone, I mean. It sounds kind of cool. Scary too. But, yeah, I know, that's the point, right? You keep telling me stuff about the ecstasy of fear and I'm not really sure if I get it. I think I kinda do. I did my "homework." I think I kinda get a little of what you're saying. I don't HATE Hazel Johansson, but her voice is annoying and sometimes she makes fun of Mom being the town bicycle. I followed her around and stood about 100ft from her window. I don't know if fun is the right word, but it's the only word I can think of. I don't know, something about that she couldn't do anything without me knowing. Like she's one of the ants in my ant farm. Is that what being a goddess feels like? I kinda like it. She still is jumpy and stuff at school and her parents called the cops over a stalker. I'm happy when I get on the news, especially since no one knows who I am. I don't know if I could learn to like fear though. I'll try, though. If it's what you want me to do.

Love,

Hester-Mae

* * *

><p>Dear sister,<p>

Do not worry if you are not quite ready to experience the joy of fear. I myself was not enlightened until a few years after I became the Scarecrow. I am glad to see that you have some appreciation of control and hold over another. This is a very important lesson for people like us. We could not do what we do if we did not enjoy having people cower beneath us in recognition of the lesser worms that they are. It is exciting, is it not? Having someone totally under your grasp, even if they do not realize it. I had no real concept of how much satisfaction that it could bring until fairly recently. It is an even greater joy to control someone to the point of shaping even his or her personality any way you choose. I am afraid you are still a bit too young for that little homework assignment, dear girl, so kindly do not attempt it. That is only for more experienced masters of terror.

You have doubts about your qualifications as a goddess of fear? Again, you are very young. You still have time to realize your true purpose. As much time as you need. Have no worries about committing blasphemy. It would only be blasphemy if I were not the God of Fear and you were not the sister of said god. If anything, the worms who look down upon you and sneer at you are the blasphemous wretches. Once I have finished molding you into my ideal partner in terror, those who once mocked you will bow before you. Don't you want that? Do you wish to go back to the cringing, submissive thing you were before I brought you out of it? Do you want to go back to being a doormat for everyone to stomp on and abuse? No. You do not. The only way for you to one day never endure another insult is to continue to obey me and to open your mind to fear. Don't give another thought to whether or not you are worthy. If you were not, do you think I would be writing to you? Do you think that I would so much as notice you, sister or not, if I did not think you would be capable of doing all that I ask? I know that the concepts that I describe to you must be very confusing and deep for such a young person, but you must try. Now, no more questioning my decisions. You must trust me absolutely if you wish to become who you were meant to be. Give yourself completely to whatever I wish of you, to whatever I tell you to, and I promise that I will make you great.

I am your elder brother. I only want what is best for you. This is all for you, sweet girl. You would not be so ungrateful as to reject the wonder I am offering you, would you? No. You are far too intelligent to do so. Deep down, you know that you are destined for greatness and want to obey me to make that happen. Remember, all that I do for you, I do out of sincerest love for my darling, unappreciated sister.

Yours,

Jonathan

* * *

><p>Jonny, Jonny, Jonny. How much more creepy can you get? Sorry for the short chapter. Again, real life gets in the way and blah blah blah...<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

OK, apparently this chapter wasn't showing so here goes again.

Last chapter folks! Don't worry, I'm working on a sequel.

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any affiliated properties. Why else would I resort to fanfiction?

* * *

><p><span>The Scarecrow Letters II<span>

Dear Jonathan,

I'm sorry. I won't ask any more questions. I don't want to think I don't appreciate you. You're the only one who appreciates me. You know what, I'll prove I'm gonna do this. I'll try to get to Gotham. That way I can meet you. I don't want you to get sick of me or anything. If you do, does that mean you'll stop writing to me? I don't know. I know you love me and want to help me and I love you too. I know you think I'm good enough and that should be good enough for me. I trust you. I really want to see you. Mom's with Jimmy all the time and she won't hardly notice. I hate it here. I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it. Madison's boyfriend told her I tried to make out with him to keep her away from me. She was the closest thing I had to a friend and she's gone. I want to hurt him. He's a liar and everyone at school thinks I'm going to be just like Mom. I can't stand it. I hate them all and I want them to die and I want to get out of here and be with you. Please help me. I can't take it anymore! Make them go away!

* * *

><p>Dear Hester-Mae,<p>

My poor girl. My poor dear little girl. I understand how hard it can be. I'm here. I know you trust me over everyone else. Worms such as those in Arlen crawl over people like us. Abuse us. Sweet girl. I'm flattered that you want to come to Gotham City to see me, but I'm sorry that you'll have to wait. I know, I know. You want to get out of Arlen as soon as possible. I did as well. I am sorry, but wait. I want to see you, but it will have to wait for a little while.

However, being the caring brother I am, I will not leave you with nothing. Notice those two vials in the envelope? Courtesy of the watchful eye of Gotham's finest, I was able to sneak them out. And the public wonders how we keep breaking out. They are samples of my fear toxin. Before you scuttle off to drench Madison's boyfriend with my toxin (and I cannot say I blame you), I want to you try one of them yourself. You'll notice that they marked with sticker dots. The vial with the blue dot is for you. This specimen of my toxin will reveal your deepest fears. In order to become a true disciple of fear, you must know your fear intimately. I know it may be scary, but that is the point, no?

Find an open space where no one can see you and there is nothing to hurt yourself with. One of the many abandoned fields around ought to do nicely. Open your vial and inhale deeply. Keep breathing deeply until your terror consumes you. This toxin is comparatively mild compared to what I normally use, so you should hallucinate for about an hour. You will not hallucinate tactile sensations, but you should be able to both see and hear your fears. Write everything you experience to me. Everything, leave nothing out. I need to know your fear. This will be good for you. Your first step into knowing the ecstasy fear can bring. I would never have you do anything that wasn't for the best.

After you have known your fear, it is high time we confront Madison's boyfriend with his. The vial with the yellow dot is intended for him. I developed it from the same variety of seed we used on your old friend Jake when you were a beginner. Remember that? You felt guilty at the time, but I think you are a wiser girl now. You know everything I have you do is completely justified. As you can see, the toxin is powdered. Just like the old days, I need you to get him to consume it. His hidden aggression and fear about his relationship with Madison will come out to the fore. Hopefully, this will be triggered in public where he cannot hide. I assume you know how that will end. The boyfriend will be punished severely and Madison will learn her lesson for not trusting someone who trusted her.

I need to see that you can use my toxin effectively. Can you cause fear with no remorse or regret, as I can? Will you prove that you are as I am? If you impress me, I will get you to Gotham. You must prove yourself, sister. I'm counting on you.

Yours,

Jonathan

* * *

><p>Dear Jonathan,<p>

I did it. Everything. Madison's boyfriend is in juvie and she's in the hospital. She blames me. She doesn't know what I did, but she thinks I was trying to steal him and he hit her out of confusion and that he's "misunderstood." I don't feel sorry. I also inhaled your fear toxin. I did NOT like it. I heard voices telling me I was just like Mom and that I was a slut like her. Everyone from school was surrounding me and yelling at me. I saw a snake climbing up me and hissing and I didn't feel it but I kinda did. Mom and her boyfriend were you-knowing in front of everyone and she was telling me that I was just like her and I should just get over it. You were there too. You told me how much you hated me. You said I was like Mom too and you never wanted to look at me again. Then you and everyone else left because I was so gross and I was alone. Not just alone-in-the-field alone, but all alone.

How am I supposed to learn to like that? Do you hate me?

From,

Hester-Mae

* * *

><p>Dear Hester-Mae,<p>

Sweet girl, you know I love you. Fear can be wondrous, if you only have the right fear. Being mocked is painful, but it is not a great phobia. Focus on your fear of me. Use your fear of me leaving you to motivate you. Think on how you felt when I was mocking you and turning from you. Use that to adjust yourself to never make me doubt you. Let it motivate you to be the perfect student I know you can be. In order to truly appreciate fear, you must have a great phobia. I have the Bat. He terrifies me down to my bones and I enjoy our clashes utterly. I would suggest trying to make me into your great phobia. Fear and love me. Let your fear of me motivate you. Let your love for me keep you going. Machiavelli argued that one must choose whether to be feared or loved. Why not both?

I think you are ready, sister. I will arrange for you and our mother to have full-paid room and board at the Old Gotham Hotel for a week starting May 10th, the day after your school year ends, yes? I will also send plane tickets. There will be a false certificate and the story will be that you won a short-story contest and a vacation to Gotham with it. While you are in Gotham, I will slip out and threaten a guard to keep quiet about it. There will be an acquaintance of mine at the hotel who will give you an excuse to leave with our mother's permission. I have been planning this for some time. I look forward to meeting you face to face, sister.

Yours,

Jonathan

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><p>To be continued in Scarecrow Kin. Which will likely take some time to come out…<p>

Screw real life so hard…


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